


something to hold on to

by wit



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Body Worship, Intergluteal Sex, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Providence Visit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29270538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wit/pseuds/wit
Summary: Q: When is Bitty going to get to touch Jack’s butt? A: Yes.-Ngozi (June 1st, 2014)August in Providence. Bitty touches Jack's butt.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 19
Kudos: 131





	something to hold on to

**Author's Note:**

> this amateurish piece of porn has been affectionately nicknamed _Bitty Bittle and jack's Booty_. there are really no hidden depths to expect here.

Bitty’s reflection is beaming back at him from the foggy mirror.

A drop of water from the hair at the back of his neck trails down and wets the collar of his t-shirt. Bitty lifts his towel to dry his hair off, eyes locked on his own glowing face in the mirror. He doesn’t think he could wipe that beam away if he tried. It’s been days since he first set foot in Jack’s Providence apartment, and each one brings forth something new and wonderful and unexpected that Bitty never would’ve even imagined back in Madison, when he was staring at his ceiling and missing Jack.

Bitty hangs the towel on the rack and opens the bathroom door to join Jack in bed. He insisted on Jack showering before him for once, had pressed relentless, giggly kisses to Jack’s face until he had no choice but to agree. Now, Bitty steps through the cloud of steam that follows him out the door and finds himself looking forward to the novel notion of Jack waiting for him in bed, already enveloped in the warm sheets.

His steps falter when he enters the room and takes in the sight spread over the bed at the other side of it.

Jack is lying on his stomach, arms folded beneath the blue pillow his head is buried in. The strength in his shoulders and biceps is on display; deltoids flexed, shoulder blades sharp, hard muscles shifting subtly beneath miles of smooth skin. The defined arch of his spine dips into his narrow waist, accented by two dimples carved right under the small of his back, peeking out of his briefs. 

Jack’s ass, curving up into two impeccably molded buttocks, outshines the rest of the view.

Bitty swallows and takes a cautious step closer. Jack's ass looks great all of the time, in jeans and in sweats and even in hockey pants, but Bitty's never seen it quite like this. He’s never allowed his eyes to linger, even though Jack’s ass is so universally admired that sexuality plays no role in it. Looking still felt like off-limits territory, like he’d be indulging some dangerous part of himself that he then wouldn’t be able to rein back in.

Now the famous Zimmermann ass is splayed out in front of him, presented so openly that it’s hard to find reasons to look away. Jack’s thick thighs are parted slightly, his right knee bent just so towards the middle of the bed. A tingle runs through Bitty’s palms, his breath quickens.

"Bits?" Jack mutters sleepily, squinting one eye open to search for Bitty over his shoulder, and damn it if the sight of it, Jack craning his neck to watch Bitty move behind him, isn’t something he’s imagined; something that makes heat coil low in his stomach. "You coming over here?"

Bitty inhales, and slowly approaches the foot of the bed, raising one knee to climb up. He could do as Jack expects and clamber over to the empty side of the bed -- _his_ side, the side Jack never sleeps on, even though they haven't discussed it -- but he doesn't. Doesn’t want to. Slowly, as to not shake the bed with his movements, Bitty crawls between Jack's spread legs and then straddles the top of his thighs, settling down on them.

Jack's breath catches audibly in the quiet room. "...Bitty?"

Bitty swallows. Jack's ass is directly in front of him, two perfect mounds of firm muscle enclosed by the wide V of Bitty’s thighs and crotch. He reaches out a hand and slowly spreads his fingers over one cheek, watches the tips of them edge the waistband of Jack's red briefs. There’s warmth growing in his face that hints at a bright blush staining his skin. "Honey... Is this okay?"

His voice is embarrassingly shaky, but so is Jack's when he rushes to answer, "Yeah, _ouais_ \-- _yes_. Yes."

Jack is warm under his touch. The fabric of his briefs is soft from wear and clings to his shape. Bitty skims his fingers up to the hollow at the base of Jack's spine and then all the way down, until they meet the coarse texture of Jack’s leg hair. He strokes the dark curls on his thigh, fascinated by the stark contrast with Jack’s pale skin. His hand dips beneath the leg band for a second before he quickly pulls it out, unsure of himself, knuckles bumping into his own leg. 

Bitty shifts his weight on top of Jack uneasily, trying to decide if he should just climb off and stop being whimsical. Jack's ass jiggles with the movement.

"Goodness," Bitty exhales, mesmerized, and then does it again on purpose.

Jack makes a tiny, stifled sound, and his grip around the pillow tightens. Bitty lifts both his hands and then hovers for a long stagnant moment before he finds the courage to flatten them around Jack's ass, cupping it in his palms. He feels so darn silly for this hesitation that nestles in his chest, but he can't rid himself of it. He wants to touch Jack and Jack wants him to touch; it's just a butt, nothing unusual about it. It shouldn't seem so momentous.

But it does. Something about the idea of it, about very physically placing his hands on something he thought he'd forever admire from afar and never get to have, is viscerally unnerving.

Jack's ass barely fits in the width of his palms. Bitty squeezes it, tentative at first, and then more boldly when Jack doesn’t protest in any way. Thrilled by the lack of give under his fingers, he squeezes harder until his thumbs are digging deep into the flesh. He has half a mind to marvel, _lord, his skin is probably turning so red under the underwear,_ before Jack hisses loudly enough to snap him out of his reverie.

"Oh -- sweetpea, I'm so sorry!" Bitty says, horrified, snatching his hands away. _God_ , he was gripping Jack hard enough to hurt him without even noticing, what was he _thinking_. "I am _so sorry_ \--"

"Felt good," Jack's voice is guttural, strangled. Bitty makes a shocked noise in the back of his throat and Jack lifts his face from the pillow, catches Bitty's gaze. His eyes are narrowed into two slim slits that are nothing but pupils. "Felt real good, Bits."

Bitty stares, fists still clenched against his heart. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you, I was just…”

“Doesn’t hurt.” There are blotches of vivid pink on Jack’s face. He lowers his head back down, chin tucked into the crook of his shoulder so Bitty can still hear him. “Just felt really nice.”

Bitty looks at him for another long moment, and then finally nods. Encouraged, he loosens his clenched hands and brings them back down, grabbing two palmfuls. He doesn’t know where this is going. Everything they’ve done so far was hands and lips and tongues, was something he could categorize and name. This is indulging his instincts and desires just because he _can_ , and it’s -- different. Good, but scary. Another new thing he never imagined before.

Jack shifts under him, legs spreading a little more. It draws Bitty’s eyes to the cleft between them, where spots of water from the shower are darkening Jack’s briefs. 

Bitty's cheeks flame up and his pulse races faster. "Y’look so great, honey."

"Yeah?" Jack whispers, voice almost inaudible. Bitty watches him rub his cheek into the pillow, hint of a smile hiding behind his arm.

"Yeah," Bitty admits, foolishly nervous about it. "Makes me wanna touch you all the time."

"You are," Jack tilts his hips up, pushing his ass more firmly into Bitty's hands. "You can. Don't… please don't stop."

Bitty swallows. He feels ridiculous, sitting on his boyfriend and fondling his ass, but Jack's ass is a masterpiece and there's just something so _hot_ about cupping it in his hands and getting to touch it freely. Bitty knows that he won't have many opportunities to leisurely explore Jack's body the way he wants to, once he goes back to school in a few days. He doesn’t know if he would’ve found the courage to do this at all if it wasn’t the case. This trip to Providence has felt, in all aspects, like a safe haven to explore their relationship before facing the real world.

"You can take my clothes off," Jack offers suddenly. 

Bitty jerks his head up, eyes widening. Jack's not wearing anything other than the tight briefs. When he says _clothes_ , he means, _you can take my underwear off._ He means, _you can get me naked_ , even though Bitty is still in his shorts and Red Raider Football shirt. He’s seen Jack naked, but not nearly enough to be used to the privilege.

Bitty begins to obey by gliding off Jack, but Jack hastily throws out a hand to halt him by grabbing onto his knee. "Don't go. You can… stay there."

Bitty lets out a trembling breath that sounds too loud to his ears. The insides of his thighs are sweating, sticking to Jack's bare skin. "I'm gonna have to move if you wanna -- y'know."

“No," Jack says, and his face must be buried back in his pillow because it's almost too muffled to hear. "Stay."

He taps on Bitty's leg, a clear indication for Bitty to move up on his knees. When he complies, Jack shoves his hands into the gap between Bitty's legs and pushes his own briefs as far down as he can reach without rising from his position under Bitty, bunching them up somewhere around his knees and leaving his ass and most of his thighs exposed.

“If I die, don’tcha tell my mama how,” Bitty babbles nonsensically, unable to tear his eyes away from the newly revealed expanses of skin. Jack’s quiet snort is his only response.

Jack’s ass is even more mouthwatering undressed. It’s not as fuzzy as his thighs, the hairs in his crease dark and thick but growing lighter and finer towards his hips. Bitty runs his hands through them, finds that they’re also shorter and gentler to the touch. He wonders how they’d feel against his tongue, and then feels a wave of heat rush through his body at the idea of getting to find out. He sits back down a little unsteadily.

"Are you okay?" Jack asks very quietly, turning to rest his cheek on the pillow. Bitty can see the straight slope of his nose and the shadow of his eyebrows under a mess of bushy hair, but the rest of his features are obscured by his shoulder.

"Your ass is incredible," Bitty confesses, and then blushes a bright red at his boldness. "I mean -- no, that's what I meant. It's so... perfect."

"It's really big," Jack says. Bitty can’t tell by the tone of his voice if he’s self-conscious about the size of his butt or if he’s nit-picking at the general idea of perfection. For a brief moment he wants to flip Jack around just so he could look into his eyes, but he's distracted quickly when his hands twitch, almost instinctively making kneading motions.

"Yeah," Bitty agrees wholeheartedly, enthralled by the flesh under his skin. "So big. So perfect."

"Just the consequence of hockey," Jack rumbles, distinctly amused, but maybe a little embarrassed as well. Bitty’s still learning to read the nuances in his voice and is elated each time he thinks he’s done well.

Bitty wants to reassert his admiration, but he doesn’t know how. He doesn't know the right words to convey that Jack is the sexiest man he knows; it’s a vocabulary he never had the chance to learn. Telling Jack that his butt is sexy sounds -- sleazy, in his head. Manufactured and out of tune coming out of his mouth. 

His hands squeeze around Jack’s ass one more time and he wishes that he knew at least some of the right words, because he feels the sentiment so acutely his body is burning up with it. Instead, he bends his spine, takes advantage of flexibility that’s never yet come into play off the ice, and plants a wet kiss on the middle of Jack's back.

Jack shudders, damp skin prickling under Bitty’s tongue. Bitty’s so turned out by his tiny sounds and reactions, so turned out by Jack’s body under him, that he’s painfully hard in his shorts. He knows that Jack must be able to sense his dick poking against the crease of Jack’s thighs, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. Jack asked him not to move, and Bitty wants to give Jack anything he asks for.

“Sweetheart,” he exhales, slowly straightening back up. He’s not sure if he knows how to follow that up.

"You can… if you want... you can fuck it," Jack says suddenly, so quietly that Bitty almost thinks he's misheard.

Bitty chokes, freezing completely in place, thighs locking around Jack’s body. His heart skips a beat and then another, partially because of the scorching wave of arousal that spreads through his bloodstream, but mostly because of the panic that seizes hold of him instantly. "I -- I don't know if I -- we haven't --"

"Not inside!" Jack hurries to clarify, sounding embarrassed. Bitty can see the flush spreading to the back of his neck from where he's sitting, can feel the rigidness of Jack's muscles as he tenses beneath him. "You can -- between --"

 _Oh_ , Bitty thinks, breathless, and looks down at the bulge in his shorts. From this angle it's easy to see how he could pull his dick out from the confining fabric and slide it between Jack's spread cheeks, push them together and -- 

"God, that's dirty," he blurts out, almost out of his mind with unforeseen desire. 

There's a moment of silence, and then Jack's stiff muscles loosen and his shoulders begin to shake in small ripples.

"Don't laugh!" Bitty chastises, mortified by his own artlessness and Jack’s response to it, but Jack's reserved shaking gradually possesses his entire upper body. Bitty can hear Jack’s hitching breaths, the aftershocks of his laughter, and then it’s hard to stop the giggles from bubbling up his own throat. "Jack! Stop it!" 

He swats Jack's ass, unthinkingly, and immediately realizes the mistake he's made. Jack's shaking escalates, his laughter hard enough to be audible through the pillow, and Bitty has no real chance of holding back his own laughter.

"Didn't know you were into that, Bittle," Jack turns his head to speak, breathless, but there's a sizzling undercurrent to his gravelly tone that dries Bitty's throat despite the light-hearted mood.

"Didn't mean to," Bitty mumbles, shy, bursts of laughter finally dying down. He palms the cheek he unintentionally spanked and squeezes it apologetically, which kills off the last of Jack's laughter as well. "You were laughing at me."

"You were being funny," Jack chirps, but it's soft as cotton, fond. 

Bitty looks up to search for Jack’s eyes and when they meet he can feel all of his emotions surge up in his chest. He loves this silly boy so much that sometimes just looking at him makes Bitty’s chest feel tight, like Jack makes Bitty’s heart swell to sizes his body can’t contain. It’s Jack, Jack and his silent laughter and his perfect ass, and the way his breathing changes when Bitty does something he likes, and -- "We're gonna need lube."

Jack’s body stills again, twisting to blink up in his direction. "I -- you --"

"Not for --" Bitty swallows. His hand on Jack's ass clenches, and he can feel Jack’s hips buck up involuntarily, straining to meet Bitty’s touch. "Just for. Between."

Jack nods, gaze heady. He bends his head back into the pillow and reaches out to blindly yank the bedside drawer open, rummaging around then dropping a bottle back on the mattress. It rolls down to the middle of the bed and stops in the dent created by Bitty's left knee.

Bitty breathes out slowly, measured. He needs to take off his clothes. He tips his weight to the right, awkwardly balancing on one knee to slip his shorts and underwear down and off, stretching them over one foot at a time and then discarding them on the floor off the edge of the bed.

He takes another deep breath before he looks down at his hard cock and Jack’s ass beneath it. It’s already a little pink from Bitty’s hands, and the sight of it makes a lump form in Bitty's throat. 

Bitty’s too embarrassed to pour lube directly into Jack's crack, so instead, with his cheeks flaming, he spills what seems like half the bottle into his palm and spreads it over himself. His cock is so shiny that it glints in the light of the bedside lamp, and Bitty watches as the excess lube drips down his length and spatters onto Jack's ass. Jack shivers, makes a small breathy sound.

Bitty lowers himself back into sitting on Jack’s thighs. Now that his skin is bare he can feel Jack’s leg hairs scratch against his own thighs and ass, can feel Jack’s tight muscles flexing against his. The pink head of Bitty’s cock bounces on Jack’s ass cheek when he moves, and Bitty bites off a moan. It’s shockingly suggestive, and he needs Jack to tell him that he’s thought this through. "Sweetpea, are you really sure?"

Jack stirs restlessly beneath him, causes Bitty’s dick to bump against him again. “Bud, _please_.”

Lord, Jack sounds _hungry_. Bitty nods convulsively even though Jack can’t see him, Adam’s apple bobbing. He grabs Jack's hips in his hands, thumbs pressing into lines of stretch marks, and strokes the skin to calm himself down. Only then does he widen his grip to dig his thumbs into the middle of Jack’s cheeks and spread them apart, exposing his furry crack and his pink hole to the air. Bitty’s cock lurches at the sight.

“Okay,” he mutters, mostly to himself, and then balances himself on his thighs and slowly lowers his cock into the cleft. Jack groans at the pressure against his sensitive skin, but Bitty can barely hear it over the pounding of his own heart.

Jack's ass is so big that when Bitty pushes the cheeks back together they create a valley deep enough to envelope most of his shaft. His cock is drenched in lube, and his first tentative thrust slides right through with a wet, dirty sound. Bitty can see the flushed head of his cock peek out from the other side, dripping precome onto Jack's back. A pearly drop spills down Jack's sweaty skin and pools in one of the dimples, glistening enticingly.

"Holy shit," he chokes out, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

Jack makes a similarly choked sound, something between a moan and a chuckle. “C’mon, Bits, keep going.” 

He emphasizes his words with a stuttering thrust of his own, dragging his body up and down. Bitty’s hands almost slip from his grip on Jack’s ass cheeks because of how good it feels. He has to dig his toes into the mattress to keep his balance, squishing Jack’s ass tighter together and thrusting up with more force than before.

The hem of his shirt brushes against his pubic hair with every movement but he pays it no mind, loses himself in the sound of his own labored breathing and the redness of Jack’s ass and the sweat beads rolling down the ridges of Jack's back. Jack has one hand twisted in the sheets and he reaches out the other to curl it awkwardly around Bitty's knee, like he’s craving the touch of Bitty’s skin. Bitty wishes he could keep going and still lace his fingers with Jack’s somehow, but the friction and the view are a compelling compromise.

"Does that --" he pants out, struggling to keep control of his voice. Jack's breathing is just as erratic, but Bitty has to make sure because it feels _so good_ for him. "Is this -- good for you --"

" _Bits_ ," Jack says in lieu of a real answer, with an urgency Bitty’s never heard in his voice before. 

It’s only then that Bitty notices that Jack is grinding his hips back and forth across the mattress, not to meet Bitty's clumsy thrusts but to get friction on his own cock.

Bitty's mind completely blacks out at the sight of Jack desperately humping the bed, and his hips push forward in a hard, uncoordinated thrust, all the way forward and then grinding back. It’s such a rough movement that he can _feel_ the thick vein on the bottom of his dick rubbing against Jack's rim. "Oh my _god,_ oh my -- _Jack_ \--" 

It’s _filthy_ , Jack's body spread out like a gift beneath him and his cock sliding between Jack’s cheeks and the sticky sheen of precome and sweat covering their skins where they meet. The rounded head of his cock catches against Jack's rim on the next thrust, pushing down on his hole, and he can barely hear his own gasp because Jack's moan drowns it.

Electricity zips down Bitty's spine. His face burns like a furnace; he's still unused to uttering these words out loud, but he has to make sure it's okay before it’s too late. "Lord, Jack, I'm gonna -- gonna come --"

" _Yeah_ ," Jack encourages, egging him on, "yeah, Bits, c'mon --"

"But-but like this?" Bitty presses, hips faltering. He could, he _wants_ to, but it seems like something out of a porn. Semen could be disgusting and it's reasonable that Jack wouldn't want it all over him, even if that mental visual is -- _good god._ "Honey, I don't have to…"

"Bitty," Jack struggles out, and it's the firmest his voice has been since Bitty mounted him, but he still sounds desperate. "Yes, like this. Please, bud. It's okay."

Bitty gets lost looking at Jack's face, trying to perceive any hint of hesitation, and his hips slip and drive forward harder than he's meant. Jack lets out a broken moan, and it’s such a hot sound that Bitty feels that strong tug at his gut, like his stomach is falling out of him. His cock twitches between Jack's ass cheeks and drools spurts of come into his crack, some of which slides down to gather in the small of his back, thin tendrils of murky white marking his skin.

" _Jack,_ " Bitty's voice breaks as he breathes the word out, Jack's name spilling out of him like there's nothing else to say. His body droops, all of the tension sucked out of him. His limbs feel a hundred times heavier than before.

Jack's back is the most obscene thing he's ever seen. Bitty watches his come trickle down to the side, dripping down Jack's waist and getting soaked in the sheets, while Jack keeps grinding back and forth, rubbing against the mattress.

Bitty's mind is blanked out, blissfully quiet, but he forces himself to slide off Jack's thighs. His knees and quads ache from holding that position for as long as he had, but he ignores the pain, occupies his mind with pushing at Jack's hip to get him to turn to his side. "Turn over, sweetpea, lemme --"

Jack follows his lead and rolls over, exposing reddened abs and a hard cock curving up towards them. Bitty reaches out to grip it, hand circling around the base, and finds it wet with precome. There’s a streaked stain on the sheets where Jack has been rubbing himself and goodness, that's _hot_ , knowing Jack enjoyed it as much as he has is so _hot_.

Bitty scrambles up the bed, tightening his fist around Jack's cock when Jack groans. He presses open-mouthed kisses to the side of Jack's face and the column of his neck while he jerks his hand up and down, letting the soft sounds Jack is making guide him. He’s almost as desperate as Jack must be even though he’s already come, licks the hollow of Jack’s throat and tastes the salty sweat on his tongue.

Jack's face is tacky with it, strands of hair curling and sticking to his forehead. His cheeks and chin are red and his eyes are locked on Bitty’s and Bitty loves him so much, sometimes it feels like it might swallow him whole. "You are -- you're so -- _honey_ \--"

His thumb brushes over the slippery slit of Jack’s cock. Jack buries his face in the crook between Bitty's neck and shoulder, bites off a low sound, and comes all over Bitty's hand.

Jack’s whole body sags down, heavy limbs weighing Bitty into the sodden sheets and hands fisting in the back of his shirt. His lips flutter at the dip of Bitty’s collarbones, quick breaths easing gradually. Bitty closes his eyes and revels in the warmth of Jack’s body against his. He kisses Jack’s frizzy hair, the tender skin of his neck, wriggles down to bury himself in Jack’s embrace.

"Was that weird?" Bitty mumbles into the tangle of Jack's chest hair, and Jack wraps his arms around him, curls their overheated bodies together. The drying come on Bitty’s crotch sticks to the come on Jack’s stomach, and all of it is a little bit much, an overload of sensations and emotions. "It mighta been a lil’ weird."

"You're amazing," Jack breathes by his ear. Bitty peeks one eye out of his hiding spot to watch Jack's rosy post-orgasm face. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it. "I don't know what counts as weird, Bits. I don't care. That was _great._ "

Bitty is overwhelmed and choked up and so transcending happy, clasps Jack's back to anchor himself in the solidness of it. "It kinda was, huh? It's your butt, Jack. It makes me do weird, great things, apparently."

Jack kisses him, slow and deep, licks into his mouth until both of their lungs aren’t heaving. When he pulls away he rubs his nose along the bridge of Bitty’s, looking at Bitty through the curtain of his eyelashes. "'S okay. I really liked it. I --. I really look forward to doing more weird things with you." 

Bitty laughs, kisses the pointy tip of Jack's nose because he’s stupidly fond of the scrunched-up face Jack makes when he does. "Me too, honey." He thinks it over for a moment longer, then asks, "Is it -- normal, how into your butt I am?", because he has no frame of reference. He's not sure he'd care if it's not, but for some reason he just has to know.

Jack licks his lips. His face is red and blotchy, but from this up close Bitty thinks that maybe Jack blushes even harder at the question. "I… hope so. Because I don't think it's anything close to how attracted I am to _your_ butt, bud."

He moves one big hand to cup Bitty's ass, almost engulfing it, and Bitty has to bite his tongue to stop a hysterical laugh from tumbling out. Jack’s hand has drifted towards his butt whenever it could, even in Madison, and ever since they’ve settled into the privacy of Jack’s apartment Jack’s had a hard time keeping his hands away. Bitty just didn't think of it like that until now. He couldn’t imagine his greediness for Jack’s body directed towards himself.

He kisses Jack instead of answering, smiles into it when Jack eagerly kisses back. Bitty’s hands stroke up and down Jack’s shoulders, gentle, and then run further down over Jack’s ribs, his flank, the dip of his waist. He stops abruptly when the smooth feel of Jack’s skin is replaced by wetness under his fingertips.

Bitty pulls his hands away, grimacing. He loves Jack, he knows he does even if it’s too soon to say, and he loves everything Jack and he have done so far. But. "Yeah… sweetheart, you’re gonna need another shower."

Jack tips his head back to blink at him incredulously, and then chokes on his spit and bursts out laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me about jack liking bitty weighing him down and bitty overcoming deep-rooted repression by physical exploration [on tumblr](https://parvuls.tumblr.com/).


End file.
